


Mind Over Matter

by 0neType



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Dom Sans, Drugs, Dry Humping, Dubious Consent, Established Relationship, Evil Chemistry, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Partial Mind Control, Penetrative Sex, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, at first but it gets sorted dw, i almost forgot those tags and they're literally the premise of the whole fic lmfao, thanks soul
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 15:27:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13390734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0neType/pseuds/0neType
Summary: Papyrus plays the hero and pays the price.





	Mind Over Matter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheManicMagician](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheManicMagician/gifts).



He sits ‘under observation’ with a healer for about two hours before his patience wears thin. It’s certainly not aided by the fact that they’re not even in the room with him, sitting just beyond the glass and watching in while jotting notes down on a clipboard. He can see them whispering to Undyne every few minutes, and every solemn curve of their lip just makes him angrier.

They keep treating him as if he’s simply a specimen to be studied.

He whips up off the examination table, paper crinkling underneath him. “Enough is _enough_.”

He stalks towards the glass and stands directly in front of his Captain and the nervous looking healer. They’re now holding the clipboard up to their face, as if preparing to use it as a shield from his outrage. Papyrus scowls at them, the barest fizzles of magic flickering at his fingertips as his irritation rises.

Beyond the glass, Undyne gives him a dark look and leans off to the side, pushing a button that turns on the intercom in the room. “Sit down, Lieutenant.” Though maybe she sees the restlessness in Papyrus’s frame because she adds, softer, “It shouldn’t take much longer.”

“With all due respect, your empty platitudes mean nothing, Captain. You’ve been saying that since the very start with nothing to back it up,” he bites out, glaring. Nevertheless, he sits as directed.

The healer leans in towards the mic. “M-my apologies, Lieutenant Papyrus. Perhaps if I-I was… better versed in the symptoms, this would go faster.”

“Or _maybe_ you ought to consider that there aren’t any symptoms because there _isn’t_ anything wrong with me,” he spits, crossing his arms stiffly.

Undyne snorts, “We bust a drug ring and you get sprayed with some concoction they scrounged up and you want me to believe that it did _nothing_ to you?”

Sprayed isn’t quite right, actually. And it hadn’t even been aimed at Papyrus in the first place.

In reality, a vial of the obscure liquid had been popped open and flung at Undyne.

The Captain had burst into the place full-force, no regard for the usual tactics or any appropriate amount of stealth. She insisted, now, that it was because she believed that brute force was the only thing criminals like these understood. Privately, however, Papyrus nursed the belief that she had been feeling particularly vengeful about the whole thing. Guarded as she was about her personal life, it was no secret to him that what really drove her into a frenzy was that these felons had stolen chemicals from the haunted, young monster that was the Underground’s Royal Scientist.

She’d been so blinded by her rage that she hadn’t seen one of the thugs hurriedly reach into their pocket for a vial. In fact, standing in her blind spot as they were, it had been up to Papyrus to push her out of the way when they’d tossed the contents of the glassware at her. He’d moved on instinct, quick to shield his Captain and only friend from harm, but unable to avoid taking the hit for her instead. Though he’d done his best to angle himself away from the attack, he’d gotten splashes of the liquid directly into his scarred eyesocket for his troubles.

Undyne had been stunned in the aftermath, mouth agape as she stares at the shattered glass on the floor. She’d calmed some after that, more mindful of her actions—and concerned after him, if the glances she’d kept throwing him had anything to say about it. Papyrus had shrugged it off, feeling no ill effects. He waved away her concern, keeping focused on the task at hand. The rest of the sweep went cleanly; with Undyne back on her game, they’d taken down the offenders within minutes.

Papyrus had assumed nothing further would come of it but, as soon as they’d gotten back to Waterfall, Undyne had him hauled off to a private healer for observation.

He’s been here ever since.

Papyrus sighs heavily, swiping a hand down his face with tenuous patience. “Surely if it were something truly dangerous, we would have seen the effects of it by now.”

Undyne is unmoved and Papyrus nearly groans aloud at the look of stubborn resolve on her face. The healer, however, shifts uneasily from one foot to the other, avoiding his gaze.

Papyrus slowly looks back and forth between the two of them. “... did the perpetrator say something about it? Did they tell you what it would do to me? Is _that_ why you’re so intent on keeping me here?”

Undyne purses her lips, nose wrinkling up in distaste as she scowls.

Papyrus fumes where he sits, bones feeling stiff with a creeping unfamiliar fear. “Captain, it’s ludicrous to keep information about my own health away from me—what did they say?”

She still doesn’t respond but Papyrus can see the confliction in her one good eye, misting her usual steely conviction.

He knows it’s playing dirty, but his soul is starting to pound with anxious uncertainty that he can’t stand. His body feels cold and uncomfortable, his fingers reflexively scrunching up into the thin, wax paper beneath him. So, he softens his voice and uses her name.

“Undyne. Please.”

She stiffens where she stands. Papyrus’s meets her eye and holds her gaze, imploring wordlessly.

Undyne nods gruffly at the healer. “Tell him.”

The monster shuffles forward, “W-well we… didn’t actually manage to get much out of the culprit…”

As Papyrus narrows his eyes at them, they speed on ahead, holding their hands up placatingly as they continue, “B-but that’s only for the nature of the compound itself! What we _have_ managed to ascertain that a full dosage—as in the full contents of that vial—would’ve affected you for as long as two weeks. With no accurate way to measure how much of it _actually_ entered your socket and was absorbed by your magic… we’d put the effects as lingering anywhere from a few hours to several days.”

“But you have no idea what these alleged effects would be?”

“None,” Undyne grits, bitter and caustic, “Bastard is as tight-lipped as they come. Even just getting a timeframe out of them took work. I’d suggest using a little force to get ‘em to come clean but—”

Papyrus looks up sharply at her, phalanges digging into the plush of the examination bed as he tenses.

Undyne gives him a wry look. “I didn’t think you’d be very happy with that.”

The healer looks bewildered by this and Papyrus is thankful for it. Undyne respects him enough that she keeps his ideals in mind whenever a case directly involves him and is honourable enough that she doesn’t breathe a word of it to anyone else. He doesn’t exactly try to hide the fact that needless violence is distasteful to him, but it’s not something he preaches about either. He knows that most would only see it as a weakness.

And he can’t afford to have any of those.

He eyes the healer carefully. “Where do you plan to go from here with the information that you _do_ have?”

The healer leans forward again, clears their throat, “Ideally, to keep you out of harm’s way and under observation for anywhere up-to a week.”

“A week?” Papyrus exclaims, “You expect me to just sit here for _a week_?”

Neither of the monsters on the other side of the glass move to reassure him and Papyrus feel indignation raise up inside of him. “No. I will not stay trapped between these walls just so you can watch me and take notes. I am not a prisoner and I refuse to be treated as such. There must be something else we can do.”

Although it’s immediately apparent that she also feels uncomfortable about keeping him confined here—Papyrus can read it in the unhappy curl of her lip—Undyne shakes her head. “I can’t let you out in public when there could be something making you vulnerable, Papyrus. The Guard has enemies just _waiting_ to take advantage of a moment like that.”

What she said makes complete sense of course, but Papyrus still can’t imagine staying here for the course of an entire week. He’d have nothing to do. Nothing to occupy his time at all but pacing and sleeping and making dull conversation with the healer. Maybe it would’ve been bearable if he were used to long periods of inactivity like his brother but—

Of course; _his brother._

Papyrus straightens his spine and folds his hands neatly in his lap. “May I make an alternative suggestion, Captain…?”

Undyne narrows her uncovered at him. “What is it?”

“If the main issue here is that you want me safe from public scrutinization, surely that can be resolved by my staying home for the duration?”

Before Undyne can say anything, the healer begins to sputter, “B-but we need someone to observe any changes in—!”

Papyrus gives them a level glare. “My brother will be around to take note of any issues with me.”

“Sans?” Undyne scoffs, “He’d have to be awake longer than five minutes if he wanted to take note of anything past his god damn sheets.”

Papyrus holds back the burst of irritation that always springs up whenever someone makes a slight towards his brother. Instead, he gives Undyne a half-smile. “He does well enough as a sentry, doesn’t he? Even you have to admit that ever since he’s taken up post, not one disturbance has gone unaccounted for within his perimeters.”

Despite his brother’s numerous ‘breaks’ and how often he dozed on the job, Sans had a knack for always being in the right place at the right time. It made Papyrus as proud as it did infuriate him. Not that he’d tell Undyne that.

Or Sans, for that matter.

Undyne considers his words as if swallowing down something particularly repugnant. But she knows as well as Papyrus does that he’s right. “Fine.”

Papyrus lets himself relax, body relaxing fractionally where he sits.

“ _But_ ,” Undyne adds on, stern as she presses a finger against the glass, pointing right at him. “If in the meantime, we discover that this is anything more dangerous than the non-issue it’s been so far, I reserve the right to drag your bony ass right back here, got it?”

Papyrus nods at her. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“Now get up.” Papyrus rushes to his feet as Undyne steps aside to let the healer open the door with their keycard. “Let me take you home.”

Papyrus frowns. “I am not a child, nor am I a civilian. I am more than capable of closing the short distance between Waterfall and Snowdin on my own.”

“Papyrus—”

“Captain,” he interrupts, “If you walked me back to Snowdin, it would be a dead giveaway that something was out of the ordinary.”

Undyne is still hesitant, he can tell. It’s a partial mixture of guilt for putting in harm’s way simply because she was distracted, and worry because, although they never say it in as many words, they are friends.

“I will be fine,” he assures her and she must hear the certainty in his voice because she straightens up.

“Alright,” Undyne says, “But if you’re going alone, then I expect you to go straight home. No distractions on the way. No stopping for anything. Is that understood?”

Papyrus stands a little taller, his bones thrumming with restlessness, “Understood.”

“We’ll drop by periodically to check on you and to monitor any changes. For now though, you are dismissed.”

He’s out the door the second she finishes her sentence. He barely says goodbye actually, so eager he is to leave. He almost bowls the healer over in his haste, muttering an apology as they yelp and Undyne laughs. He hadn’t realised how antsy he’d gotten sitting inside in one place for such a lengthy amount of time. His brother would’ve loved such a situation no doubt. Sitting still in one place with explicit instructions to do nothing.

It feels like he can’t get home fast enough, and Papyrus increases his pace, quickly closing the distance to Riverperson’s ferrying service.

And then someone calls out to him

Papyrus doesn’t quite hear them clearly, but whatever they said makes him pause. His body feels stiff with the wrongness of it, Undyne’s insistence that he go home right away making him want to ignore the voice and continue forward. But as he takes another step, a spark of pain jolts in his body and he freezes in place.

“Hey! I said stop!”

Papyrus turns around and sees a small monster running up to him. He’s not normally so impatient, but he feels fidgety waiting for them as they approach, clearly short of breath. Undyne’s words echo in his head and the wrongness of ignoring her makes his bones itch.

“ _Finally_ ,” they pant when they finally catch up to him, “I have been trying to get a hold of someone in the guard for ages! Seems like calling you up isn’t enough to be taken seriously anymore!”

Already, Papyrus can tell that this is going to be some sort of ridiculous complaint not worth his time. He’s the Lieutenant, not a babysitter. He wants to turn around and start going back home again.

It’s beyond him why he doesn’t.

“There are these… these hooligans! They’re always making a racket by my house every night. I’m not sure if they’re in cahoots or whatever, but either it’s loud, annoying music or banshee-like shrieks that plague me nightly and I’m growing absolutely sick of it.”

Papyrus sighs, “Have you filled out the—”

“ _Yes,_ I’ve filled out the complaint forms!!” The monster stomps their feet in punctuation, “I’ve done it a _thousand_ times and _still_ no one’s done a thing about them!”

“If you’ve filled out the forms then all that remains is for you to wait,” Papyrus recites on rote, “They are read in the order that they are received and then ranked by urgency so that the Guard can efficiently—”

“Don’t give me that ridiculous drivel,” the monster cuts him off and a bubble of annoyance begins to grow in Papyrus, “This is more important that whatever it is your silly Guard does all day. Making stupid puzzles in the forest or whatever.”

“ _Excuse_ me?”

The monster holds up a hand, “Let me finish.”

And even though Papyrus can feel that latent anger inside of him rise to a boil, he snaps his mouth shut. He wonders for a moment if this monster even knows who they’re talking to. He’s the _Lieutenant_. Second only to Undyne herself. He shouldn’t have to put up with this.

And yet he continues to stand there, bound by his duty to serve.

“All I want from you is the promise that you’ll take this up with the Captain.”

The Captain? They must be joking. This issue is so far beneath her that it’s laughable.

“Promise me,” they demand, certain that their problem is worth taking directly to the top, “ _Promise_ me you’ll talk to her about this the next time you see her.”

“I promise.” Papyrus says.

He pauses.

Blinks.

The monster beams at him, “Maybe you’re not as terrible at your job as I initially thought.”

And before Papyrus can reboot fast enough to respond to that, they’re on their way, whistling happily to themselves as they leave. Papyrus stands still, utterly confused as to why he bothered promising them anything at all. He supposed it _did_ get them to leave but… he also wasn’t the type to break a promise.

He sighs, rubbing at his sockets tiredly.

He’d have to remember to bring it up with Undyne the next time he saw her.

Papyrus tries to put it out of his mind as he resumes his path towards the Riverperson, but something about the exchange still makes him feel out of sorts. Shoulders hunching up, he stays on high alert as continues through Waterfall, avoiding the gaze of the rare monster he passes in the darkness.

By the time he reaches the ferry, he’s feeling restless again. It’s like he can feel Undyne staring him down, disapproving because he’s still not home yet. Once they stop in Snowdin, Papyrus is damn near nauseous, his bones almost trembling with an inexplicable urge to get home as soon as possible.

He rushes out of the ferry and races forward so quick that, for the second time today, he knocks someone over. As he drags himself back up to his feet, he notices that it’s two rabbit monsters—the innkeeper and her son.

Part of him wants to help the child up, but the urgency to get home is stronger than ever now that he’s so close.

He turns away when a tiny voice calls up to him, “ _Apologise!_ ”

He whirls back around to see the innkeeper shush her son while the boy continues glaring up at him fiercely, “You tore my brand-new scarf! Apologise right now!”

The innkeeper looks equal parts stressed and embarrassed. She obviously already knows that the Guard would never harm a child, but this sort of disrespect is unacceptable. Papyrus can’t just let this slide without reprimand.

Papyrus opens his mouth to scold the child. “I apologise.”

The innkeeper stares at him, eyes going wide.

Her son turns his nose up at him, “And remember to watch where you’re going next time!”

“I will.” Papyrus responds, as if on automatic.

The boy puffs out his chest, growing increasingly bold. “And… and give me your scarf! To replace the one you tore!”

Papyrus feels like his soul stops dead in his chest. His arms feel weighted as they come up to touch the fabric draped around his neck. He phalanges tremble as they run across the surface of it before gripping it tight. He feels a rush of indescribable dread, as he tugs at the scarf and feels it leave his neck bare.

Sans gave him this scarf.

Sans gave it to him back when they were kids and Papyrus had only needed to look to his big brother to know that things would be okay. After they’d gotten older and things had gotten difficult enough that their relationship had grown strained, it was often something Papyrus clung to in order to remember a time when things hadn’t seemed so bleak. It’s been ages since then… been forever since Papyrus had to rely on the feel of his scarf around his neck to know his brother cared, instead of the warmth of his embrace and the press of Sans’ mouth against his own, but he still can’t bear to let it go.

And yet, he takes it off anyways, phalanges shaking as he folds the fabric neatly into a bundle, his soul aching and socket itching when he tries to stop himself from doing something he so obviously doesn’t want too. He raises a hand up to rub at the itch, bones dragging against the raised edges of his scars. He grips tighter onto the scarf with his other hand, unwilling to let go.

His socket starts to burn.

_The vial._

The thought hits him as he loosens his grip on the scarf and the burning sensation subsides.

This must have something to do with the liquid that got into his eye. He’d been feeling odd ever since he left the healer’s in Waterfall. Maybe it was slow to activate? It seemed relatively harmless at first but maybe now it was finally starting to take effect.

Or.

As Papyrus thinks over the events since the compound made contact with him, an uneasy realisation dawns. It occurs to him that it’s possible that the liquid had taken effect right from the start and it had only taken him till now to realise it. Soul beating rapidfire against his ribs, he makes the connection between all the encounters he’s had since then.

The drug must make it so that he’s obligated to fulfill any commands he’s given.

The only reason he hadn’t pieced it together sooner was because he’d been with Undyne. She was his Captain—it was practically second nature to him at this point to follow her orders. Nothing out of the ordinary at all. And the healer had been too meek to give him a direct command, relying on Undyne to do it for them so that they could inspect Papyrus properly.

But knowing what’s going on doesn’t mean he knows how to stop it, and Papyrus watches himself pass his bundled-up scarf towards the child even as his soul aches with the desire to keep it pressed against his bones. Every bit of hesitation makes a joint pain runs from his eyesocket straight to his core and Papyrus has to keep himself from visibly wincing. He grits his teeth against the pain as the boy reaches up to grab his scarf from him.

The innkeeper pushes her son’s arms down. “Lieutenant Papyrus, please don’t mind this foolish boy. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.”

The young monster frowns at his mother. “But—”

She gives him a silencing look before turning back to Papyrus. “We thank you for your generosity but, please, keep your scarf. A replacement is not necessary—the tear can easily be stitched back again.” She gives her son a pointed look. “Isn’t that right?”

The child kicks a foot against the ground, pouting. “Right.”

Papyrus’s arms fall lax and the scarf nearly tumbles into the snow, saved only by the strangled grip he’s reflexively kept in the fabric. He doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t know if he can. He feels choked with relief.

The innkeeper stares at him for a moment, looking hesitant. And maybe it’s only because he’s been so unusually generous with his time and patience today that she speaks, “If I may say, Lieutenant… you’re not looking the best today. You should get home as soon as possible. It isn’t right for a Guardsman to look so out of sorts in public.”

And just like that, the previous order from Undyne ignites anew in his chest, strengthened by the one from the innkeeper, and Papyrus is immediately turning on his heel. He forces himself to remain calm even as his soul races in his chest. He even manages to toss a wave back over his shoulder as he departs, though he still can’t manage to speak in his anxiousness.

Suddenly the distance between here and home seems too great, and Papyrus feels completely on edge as he walks back, frazzled thoughts expecting someone to pop up and command him at any moment. Paranoia makes him jumpy and twice he startles at the sight of something inanimate, thinking it’s a monster that’s snuck up on him. Apprehension threatening to overwhelm him, Papyrus squares his shoulders and ups his pace, walking as briskly as he can before someone else catches him.

By the time he reaches his front door, his head feels like a mess. He’s twitchy and wound-up and feels like he’s shaking all over. It takes him two tries too many to fumble open the lock and rush into the house and even once he’s in, his soul won’t stop pounding in alarm.

Papyrus sinks to his knees.

No one can see him like this.


End file.
